


London, Take 2

by froggydarren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, mention of Dylan's accident (non-graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/froggydarren
Summary: It's rare that they end up in the same place at the same time, especially when they're away from California. So there was no way Tyler wasn't going to take advantage of the fact that they're both in London. He only needed to be more careful about it this time, instead of just walking to the hotel where he was meeting Dylan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Related to the weekend of September 16th, 2016, when Tyler was in London for a TW convention and Dylan for filming of his new movie.

“It’s not as bad as it was last time.” 

“What, like when I accidentally ran into a bunch of fans waiting for  _ you _ to show up?” 

Dylan sighs and hums in agreement. 

“The hotel isn’t on their radar this time,” he says, glancing out of the window. “The sets are, but that’s more of a production and easier discovered.” 

“I don’t think they know where we’ve been put up either,” Tyler tells him, glancing towards Adam in the corner of the green room. “It’s far enough from here.”

“Will you tell Adam thanks?” Dylan says quietly after a bit of silence on the line. “I mean, he’s still your cover, right?” 

“Yeah, he has a meeting that he has to leave for early, and I’m ducking out with him,” Tyler says. 

Up until then, Dylan only knew that Adam was the excuse for Hoech’s early exit out of the convention. Leaving by himself, with the fans knowing that Dylan is in town, would’ve had the potential of causing way too many rumours. This way, Adam would be the perfect smoke screen. 

“You’re not shooting early tomorrow, are you?” 

“It’s Sunday, dude,” Dylan says with a chuckle.

“Hey, don’t laugh, I’ve had way too many weekend shoots in my life to consider them a possibility,” Tyler says defensively. “Plus, I just want to make sure that I’ll get to see you more than for dinner.”

“Oh, you got big plans for tonight?” Dylan’s tone is teasing, and Tyler can easily imagine the grin on his boyfriend’s face. 

“Maybe, if you behave,” Tyler replies. 

“And if I don’t? Will you spank me for being a bad boy?” 

“Now you’re just cruel,” Tyler says, knowing that Dylan will be imagining his pout. 

“Is it really, if I mean to follow through?”

“On what? On being bad? Because that’s just your normal state, so…” Tyler fires back, his lips in a grin again.

“Yo, Hoech, we’re up for the auto session,” Ryan calls out from the door of the green room, making a face when Tyler turns his grin in his direction. “Chill with that smile, or you’ll get found out.” 

“I’m coming,” Tyler tells him, phone still by his ear.

“Not yet, you’re not,” Dylan mutters. “Go, be charming, then get here. I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m not skipping dinner, you menace,” Tyler says, grabbing his hat and putting it on.

He nods to Dawn, who changed places with Ryan by the door. 

“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” he tells Dylan and hangs up when he hears the acknowledging “yeah” on the other end. 

He loves doing these things for the fans, so he gets his head in the game as he walks over to his table. But there’s a part of him that keeps an eye on his watch after a while, wondering how soon Adam will have to leave for his meeting. When his line disappears, and Adam comes over, Tyler doesn’t look back as he walks out. 

There’s a photo in his messaging app when he gets to the car, and he carefully angles the screen away from Adam. When he catches his breath at the sight that welcomes him after unlocking his screen, his cheeks burn red enough to make Adam chuckle with amusement anyway. 

“We’ll drop you off first, then,” Adam says, and Tyler only manages to nod and mumble a “thank you” as he locks the phone again. 


	2. London, Take 2.5

_ Someone brings it up the next day, asks what he was doing last night. Of course they do. He doesn’t blush, doesn’t give anything away -- he hopes -- just mentions that he didn’t sleep and takes the bait of using jetlag as an excuse. And a bed he’s not used to. Or a new place. He can’t remember. It’s doesn’t matter, as long as it’s not the truth, because that’s a clusterfuck he’s refusing to walk into.  _

“You’re early,” Dylan says with a smile that … fuck, he missed it so much. 

“Adam said he couldn’t stand to look at me,” he responds. “I was too distracted, apparently.” 

Dylan is still topless, like in the photo that caused the car’s detour from the original route to Adam’s meeting. Topless, and with drops of water still sliding down from his shoulders. It’s what brings Tyler’s attention to Dylan’s hair.

“I forgot how long your hair is now,” he says, and Dylan’s eyes narrow.

“You saw me before they cut it into shape,” he tells Tyler, slightly confused.

“I know… I just,” Tyler pauses, his hand twitches to touch, but he doesn’t. “I forgot.” 

Dylan steps forward, close,  _ right there _ , and he reaches past Tyler to slam the door closed. The noise causes them both to twitch as it echoes around the hotel room. 

“You’re not ready yet,” Tyler says, a propos of nothing. “I can…” 

“No, you can’t,” Dylan tells him with finality that leaves no room for argument. “If you fucking think you’re going anywhere…” 

“Dinner?” Tyler says, arms full of Dylan’s muscles all of a sudden. 

“Fuck dinner,” Dylan replies, burying his face into Tyler’s neck. “Fuck  _ you _ , and then maybe dinner. Or room service. We can do that naked. I fucking missed you.” 

“Me too,” Tyler says. “Hey,” he adds, nudging at Dylan’s shoulders gently to move him a little. “Hey, let me see your face. I missed it.” 

“Just my face?” Dylan asks, but he pulls away, though his hands stay on Tyler’s hips. 

“There was a  _ thing _ on it the last time I did see you,” Tyler tells him, lips twitching into a smile.

He brings up a hand to Dylan’s jaw, cups his palm around it. It’s far from smooth, but it’s not covered in a layer of hair. And he’s a hypocrite, he knows, with his own beard that he hasn’t even been growing all that long. But Dylan’s face… he looks like he hasn’t in months, like he didn’t have a chance to. Tyler scans for new things, new ridges that haven’t been there  _ before _ . 

“It’s still just me,” Dylan says quietly, like he knows what Tyler is thinking. 

“I know… I just…” 

“Hey, Hoech, look at me,” Dylan says with urgency, stressing his words. “I’m okay. We’re okay. The face is still there. I am.” 

“I like the face,” Tyler says, knowing he sounds a little dumb. “I like that it’s still here,” he rubs his hand over Dylan’s jaw as he speaks. “I like you.” 

“I love you,” Dylan tells him, and he leans in for a kiss. 

It’s barely there, just a butterfly touch against Tyler’s lips, and then it’s gone, and his eyes flutter open again. He didn’t even realise he closed them. 

“I love you too,” Tyler says, and then his head lowers enough for his face to dip into the crook between Dylan’s neck and shoulder. “Fucking missed you,” he mumbles against the still damp skin.

“You said,” Dylan tells him, vibrating with a chuckle. “C’mon, I wanna…” 

“Yeah,” Tyler says, letting himself be pulled further into the room. 

He hasn’t seen it before, only in the few photos behind Dylan that have reached his phone since Dylan got to London. He wasn’t paying attention to it then and he isn’t now, only for how it feels like it’s too big, like anything they can land on softly enough is way too far. 

Then there’s a couch, and Dylan underneath him, and hands tugging on his T-shirt until it slips past his face, his hat flying off at the same time. It’s a second, but it feels like too long a time to  _ not _ be looking at Dylan. He signed up for it, back when, he knows: the distance, the conflicting schedules, the lack of time together. They both did, when they had the talk about whether it would be worth it, whether they would manage all the complications. 

And it’s okay, most of the time. He’s busy. Dylan’s busy. Well, Dylan’s been  _ less _ busy in the last while, since the accident, but that’s also been a chance to touch base at home, at Dylan’s place, their place. His place is still with Ryan, technically, not that he’s ever  _ there _ . 

“I’ve lost you, didn’t I?” Dylan asks, putting a stop to the train of thought in Tyler’s mind. 

It all screeches to a halt, gets overridden by one thought only. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, his lips curling into a smile from the frown that his other thoughts have caused. 

“Yeah, I am,” Dylan smiles back, and it’s the best thing. The only thing. 

Nothing else matters then, as Tyler leans down and kisses him like he’s oxygen in a vacuum, like he’s the last drop of water in July in California. He’s bracing his body over Dylan’s carefully, trying to keep his weight off until Dylan’s fingers dig into the dip of his lower back and push him down. 

“I’m not  _ that _ fragile,” Dylan says quietly when their lips pull apart. “Not anymore. I’ve got muscles now,” he says with pride that makes Tyler think of Stiles a little. 

“I see that,” he says instead of mentioning that. “Think you could hold me up now?”

“Probably not in water,” Dylan grins, knowing exactly where that thought is going. “Never fucking again.” 

“Against the loft wall?” Tyler says, eyes crinkling with a smile.

They did that, once. Fucked right against the hole in the wall, when everyone had gone home after a night shoot, with the sun coming up somewhere outside. The crew ripped them both a new one when they broke part of it, so they never tried that again, keeping to trailers instead. 

There’s no one to complain now. Nowhere to rush for a while. Nothing to disturb them in Dylan’s room. Tyler lifts himself up a bit and looks over Dylan’s face again, still surprised to see all of it. 

“I kind of miss the beard,” Dylan says, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It was easier to hide until the first photo. No one fucking  _ knew _ . It was nice.” 

“This place must be nice then,” Tyler says. 

“I wish, man,” Dylan huffs. “Once the beard was out there…” 

“Has it been bad?”

He worries, still. Always, really. He knows how much Dylan hates it, hates the attention. How much it kills him to not have his own space whenever he needs it. Tyler’s better with it, plays along, gives people the minute so they leave him alone after. He’s still protective of himself and his life, but he’s learned to draw lines, to allow some of the intrusion to prevent the worse ones. 

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s more chill here anyway,” Dylan says, fingers dipping below Tyler’s jeans as he speaks. “Maybe it’s the alcohol, mellows everyone out,” he grins. 

“Maybe you’re not as big a deal anymore,” Tyler teases, letting his weight down on Dylan again. 

“At least I’m not famous for my ass, fuck you,” Dylan says, his tone light, fingers pinching Tyler’s ass. 

“You said you would,” Tyler shoots back, arching his back to press said ass into Dylan’s hands. “Sounds like empty promises so far.” 

“Have you been asked if it’s real today?” 

“Don’t know,” Tyler mutters, face buried in Dylan’s neck again. 

He tries to remember, but Dylan’s fingers are dipping lower, under the jeans, under the boxer-briefs, into the crack of Tyler’s ass and sliding down. The dry friction isn’t all that pleasant, but when Dylan’s finger catches against the rim, Tyler arches into the touch, and whimpers. 

“Want you,” he mutters. “D, fuck, missed you.” 

“C’mon, bed,” Dylan says, pulling his hands out of Tyler’s pants and shoving gently at his shoulders. “There’s a perfectly fine bed right there. I can get you naked, spread you out, give you something to remember.”

“Fuck,” Tyler breathes out as he starts getting up.

“That’s the plan,” Dylan replies with a grin. “Then dinner, maybe?” 

“Fuck dinner,” Tyler says, already up and tugging Dylan along towards the bed. 

_ He pays for it the next day, tired and sleepy before the afternoon. His hair’s a mess, so he keeps it under the hat, says a quiet thanks that Dylan kept the hickies to places under clothes. He left his own just above Dylan’s hip, one on each side.  _

_ He’ll be away again tomorrow, on to the next trip. There’s been whispers of Paris for the weekend after, and then it’s Dylan’s premiere that neither of them is sure about yet. Well, Tyler knows he won’t go, but he might be in the city.  _

_ “I didn’t go out,” he says when he’s asked about his Saturday night. “Tossed and turned,” when he talks about his lack of sleep. It’s all true, anyway. Just not the whole truth. That one is in his phone, hidden away from prying eyes, dark hair messy against the white pillows, blissed out face with all the new battle scars, and a smile reserved for him alone, sent just as he was walking into the green room.  _

_ “Fucking miss you,” says the text that follows it.  _

_ “Miss you too,” he text back before he puts his game face back on. _

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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